Digging
by AudioAesthetic
Summary: Post-DH. "Crocus is a horrible name for a flower." "I happen to like crocuses." "Well, yes, they're very nice, but you wouldn't name your daughter 'Crocus,' now would you?" Zacharias helps Susan plant a garden.


**Title:** Digging  
**Author:** AudioAesthetic  
**Rating:** T, just to be safe.  
**Summary:** Post-DH. "Crocus is a horrible name for a flower." "I happen to like crocuses." "Well, yes, they're very nice, but you wouldn't name your daughter 'Crocus,' now would you?" Zacharias helps Susan plant a garden.  
**Author's Notes:** This is something that just came to me. Yay for spurts of inspiration! Hope you enjoy and remember, con-crit is our friend.

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_"__The best place to seek God is in a garden. You can dig for him there."_ - George Bernard Shaw

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"We could use magic, you know," said Zacharias for the upteenth time that afternoon. He wiped sweat from his brow with a gloved hand and glared pointedly at Susan. She could only smile amusedly in return, mostly because she knew it bothered him.

"We could," she said, "but we're not going to."

"Why not?"

Could Susan tell him that she didn't want to use magic for many things anymore? Could she explain to him, patiently, that she had seen that May what horrible things magic could do to people, that she had witnessed families being torn apart by the wands of others, and that sometimes she didn't want to be reliant on it? That she occasionally blamed magic for allowing her to see thestrals?

Of course she couldn't, because he was Zacharias Smith, Proud Pure-blood, Heir of Hufflepuff (so he said), and the Boy Who Had No Idea What a Microwave Was. He was her friend, of course, but that didn't mean she had to explain herself.

"Because I don't want to," she decided finally. Zacharias rolled his eyes and reached for another bulb as if to say, _This is not the last you'll hear from me_. Susan resisted the temptation to feel affection for him.

They planted in blissful silence for a while longer. The two of them worked best in silence (there were less arguments that way) and they had passed many an evening sitting together close by the fireplace in the common room, correcting essays and fiddling with tricky charms. Susan tried not to think of those times, because they reminded her about how different everything was now. If she had nothing to compare this abnormality to, well... it wouldn't be abnormal, would it?

"Crocus is a horrible name for a flower." As had always happened that day when Zacharias randomly broke the silence, Susan wondered why she hadn't invited Hannah over to plant her garden instead.

"I happen to like crocuses," Susan said rather proudly. Zacharias sighed as if she was completely missing the point.

"Well, yes, they're very nice, but you wouldn't name your daughter 'Crocus,' now would you?"

"I would name my daughter Sally-Anne." She was surprised by the defiance in her voice when announcing her intention to honor a fallen comrade - but then she had always felt somehow that she needed to defend herself when talking to Zacharias.

He eyed her passively, and she was unsure if he was being sarcastic when he asked, "And your son Cedric, I suppose?"

"Yes." She raised an eyebrow. "Why? Don't you approve?"

He shrugged. "I think it's a mistake to live in the past."

They stared at each other for a good long moment, his haughty grey eyes trapping Susan's resistant brown. Susan never had any idea what Zacharias was thinking - he was the sort of person she was never sure if she was supposed to take seriously. It was impossible to tell if he was kidding, or eager, or anything more than just an arrogant arse. Susan liked to think he was, but after everything, how could she?

"Why did you run, Zach?" she asked, almost desperately. When he blushed and looked at the ground, she realized she hadn't expected him to be ashamed. "You ran and you left us to fight alone. You could have helped and maybe - "

"And maybe what?" he demanded. "And maybe Voldemort would be more dead? You won, Susan, and you didn't even need me, nor, I think, did anyone really want me. Or maybe you mean that if I had stayed, that maybe Sally-Anne would still be alive?"

"Don't you dare," said Susan, furious. "To imply that I'd want her instead of you. I'd rather not have lost either of you, but I would never choose her over you. Ever."

Now would not be a good time to say something like _I love you, you idiot_, because Zacharias is rather sensitive, surprisingly, and Susan is not even sure she would mean it. There was a reason Susan and Zacharias never dated at school, though it wasn't really a concrete reason, and to start it now, right after everything, felt too much like it wouldn't be real. If it was going to happen, she wanted it to happen properly, and not because of Zacharias's annoying habit of half-assing everything.

"I made a _promise_, if it makes any difference," he said. He'd never offered any form of explanation for any of his actions for as long as Susan knew him, and at first Susan didn't register that that's what this was. "My dad lost my mum and my older sister in the first war. He made me promise not to die. What was I supposed to do, Susan? Leave my father alone in the world? I didn't... I couldn't think of anything else to _do_."

"We could have fought together," she said, not really believing it. "We could have... we could have protected each other."

His raised eyebrow said _Yeah, right, that would have worked_ rather obviously, and Susan surprised herself by laughing. Pleasantly, Zacharias smiled, too, and handed her another bulb by way of apology, it seemed. But apology for what? For leaving? For being a complete and utter wanker sometimes?

Or maybe for all that and things he hadn't even done yet. Susan liked to think he had the foresight to know that this would definitely not be the last time he pissed her off. She wouldn't hear of that. They weren't finished yet.


End file.
